In this episode of The Big Book Project, host Lori Feathers delves into Part Three of Roberto Bolaño’s 2666, The Part About Fate. Through the lens of Oscar Fate’s journey, we explore themes of identity, violence, and the fragile boundary between reality and illusion.
I'm very interested in the subject of semblances as they relate to this novel, in which reality is the wavering stuff of memories, ambitions, desires, and grief. I appreciate the previous post about the resemblance of Father Mapple's sermon in Moby Dick and the sermon of Barry Seaman in 2666. Mapple is a former seaman, and in the course of his sermon about Jonah and the whale, he admonishes his congregation to remember, "if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists."
Barry Seaman's situation resembles a photo negative of the sermon in Moby Dick. His motivations are not aimed toward a white whale, but rather arrive from his experience as a Black Panther. Jonah shirked God's order to go to Nineveh and speak truth to power, and he was jailed in the belly of a whale. Conversely, Barry Seaman was held in the dark belly of the justice system for his errands speaking truth to power. The connotations in the order to "obey" are very different for Barry than they are for Father Mapple.
In Eva Brann's book "Feigning: On the Originals of Fictive Images," professor Brann reminds us that the images we imagine are not what they themselves display. They feign or copy what they seem to stand for. The majority of the time, when we think about an image from memory or an image that inspires or frightens us, we are only imagining the image of the subject -- the subject being occluded by the stand-in or copy image. The "ultimate" image is the final image, with respect to so-called reality. It's the original that inspired so many copies. One way to think of the ultimate image: most pre-ultimate images are Janus-like. They have two faces. So most images are in turn models and copies. Not so the final image, it is single-faced, in fact, the origin of images.
It's interesting to apply this logic to the title 2666. What does this title mean? If 666 refers to an image in John's imagining of the apocalypse, then "2" applied to 666 could suggest a copy image of John's imagining (two faces). Consider an angel, or rather a picture of an angel. It's intended to be the picture of a supra-human being -- human in appearance but not in essence. Who is the original? The writer or painter probably did not refer to an angel sent to model, but referred to a mental image. The picture of the angel is a realization, a "turning-into-a-thing," of that image. The picture we have of Archimboldi (so far in the novel) is one that is always turning into something else -- ranging from an elusive genius to perhaps even an angel of death. Amalfitano is transformed in his part of the novel. Oscar Fate is transformed in his part, even his name. Might the ultimate image of Archimboldi, Amalfitano, and Fate have something to do with how the femicides are solved or ended? Or perhaps in some unfortunate way might the ultimate image of each be implicated in these horrible crimes -- whether directly, or by an absence of intervention?
And consider the image of the university in Santa Teresa. It is a way of turning an inhospitable desert into a place of human reason. The image of humanity's search for reason and abundance, our striving, does not align with the image of the natural world when placed over it, and this misalignment of human striving and the natural world (God's world) is another source of imagery in John's apocalypse.
Lori, you'd asked me to consider the situation of art mania that's present in the novel, when I brought up what I thought Bolano's intentions were. I agree, there's definitely a warning about art mania. Perhaps the situation with the critics is this: they are hung up on pre-ultimate images. The critics admire Archimboldi's ability to externalize prive images into artful novels. They celebrate, via their careers, their own ability to internalize those novels into private epiphanies -- connections of images that link, or turn into, a discovery. Bolano, like any writer, appreciates the work of writing and the work of linking images in a critical evaluation. But I think Bolano admonishes us not to celebrate the task work -- not to get too hung up on the work of rendering forms and imitations of forms. Skill and audacity may be admired, but they should not be confused with the ultimate image. It's as though we celebrate a false idol when our admiration ends at skill and audacity. Perhaps Boloano is wagging his finger at us like an ancient prophet, admonishing us to seek out and celebrate the ultimate image. What is it that inaugurated the artist to expend their skill and will in the imitation of forms into a finished artwork? The true thing to be admired involves the mystery of inspiration. The ultimate idol is somewhere inside the inspiration or command. The rather religious investment that comes out of the ether into the human mind, and how the artist obeys the command to create -- isn't that true cause for celebration and reverence?
I’m so glad that you liked the video and thank you for these new, thought- provoking comments.
Your comparison of the biblical Jonah’s imprisonment in the dark belly of the whale and Barry Seaman’s incarceration, both the result of speaking truth to power, is enlightening. It seems that Bolano may be creating a (holy?) trinity with this novel, Moby Dick, and the biblical story of the whale. Thanks to you and Connor for illuminating this for us.
Perhaps we could even expand Bolaño’s theme to say that Santa Teresa, itself, is trapped inside the dark belly of the whale because no one in power is pursuing truth and justice for the femicide victims?
It may take some time for me to fully understand Brann’s fascinating philosophy on original images and their facsimiles. But I can see already how this works nicely with the idea of semblances.
The title 2666 has intrigued many people over the years and there are several theories as to what the title means. I’ve mentioned the quote from Bolaño’s previous novella, “Amulet,” in which the narrator refers to a Mexico City road as a cemetery in the year 2666. I’ve even heard the theory that the title derives from the number of miles from the northern border of Chile to its southern-most tip! I agree that it seems unlikely that the biblical “666” didn’t factor into the author’s thinking in some way.
Your comment about the university where Amalfitano works as a place of human reason took me back to a passage where the head of the Faculty of Literature tells Amalfitano that he doesn’t believe in philosophy due to the marvels of science (p. 200). Is Bolaño giving us a hint that reason and the pursuit of truths is jeopardized by this way of thinking?
And, yes, regarding art, I agree with you that Bolaño honors creative inspiration and endeavor above all. But he does show us instances where this has been twisted and corrupted, not only by the appreciators of the art or artist, but by the artist himself (i.e., Johns.)
Lori, thanks for this terrific video!
I'm very interested in the subject of semblances as they relate to this novel, in which reality is the wavering stuff of memories, ambitions, desires, and grief. I appreciate the previous post about the resemblance of Father Mapple's sermon in Moby Dick and the sermon of Barry Seaman in 2666. Mapple is a former seaman, and in the course of his sermon about Jonah and the whale, he admonishes his congregation to remember, "if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists."
Barry Seaman's situation resembles a photo negative of the sermon in Moby Dick. His motivations are not aimed toward a white whale, but rather arrive from his experience as a Black Panther. Jonah shirked God's order to go to Nineveh and speak truth to power, and he was jailed in the belly of a whale. Conversely, Barry Seaman was held in the dark belly of the justice system for his errands speaking truth to power. The connotations in the order to "obey" are very different for Barry than they are for Father Mapple.
In Eva Brann's book "Feigning: On the Originals of Fictive Images," professor Brann reminds us that the images we imagine are not what they themselves display. They feign or copy what they seem to stand for. The majority of the time, when we think about an image from memory or an image that inspires or frightens us, we are only imagining the image of the subject -- the subject being occluded by the stand-in or copy image. The "ultimate" image is the final image, with respect to so-called reality. It's the original that inspired so many copies. One way to think of the ultimate image: most pre-ultimate images are Janus-like. They have two faces. So most images are in turn models and copies. Not so the final image, it is single-faced, in fact, the origin of images.
It's interesting to apply this logic to the title 2666. What does this title mean? If 666 refers to an image in John's imagining of the apocalypse, then "2" applied to 666 could suggest a copy image of John's imagining (two faces). Consider an angel, or rather a picture of an angel. It's intended to be the picture of a supra-human being -- human in appearance but not in essence. Who is the original? The writer or painter probably did not refer to an angel sent to model, but referred to a mental image. The picture of the angel is a realization, a "turning-into-a-thing," of that image. The picture we have of Archimboldi (so far in the novel) is one that is always turning into something else -- ranging from an elusive genius to perhaps even an angel of death. Amalfitano is transformed in his part of the novel. Oscar Fate is transformed in his part, even his name. Might the ultimate image of Archimboldi, Amalfitano, and Fate have something to do with how the femicides are solved or ended? Or perhaps in some unfortunate way might the ultimate image of each be implicated in these horrible crimes -- whether directly, or by an absence of intervention?
And consider the image of the university in Santa Teresa. It is a way of turning an inhospitable desert into a place of human reason. The image of humanity's search for reason and abundance, our striving, does not align with the image of the natural world when placed over it, and this misalignment of human striving and the natural world (God's world) is another source of imagery in John's apocalypse.
Lori, you'd asked me to consider the situation of art mania that's present in the novel, when I brought up what I thought Bolano's intentions were. I agree, there's definitely a warning about art mania. Perhaps the situation with the critics is this: they are hung up on pre-ultimate images. The critics admire Archimboldi's ability to externalize prive images into artful novels. They celebrate, via their careers, their own ability to internalize those novels into private epiphanies -- connections of images that link, or turn into, a discovery. Bolano, like any writer, appreciates the work of writing and the work of linking images in a critical evaluation. But I think Bolano admonishes us not to celebrate the task work -- not to get too hung up on the work of rendering forms and imitations of forms. Skill and audacity may be admired, but they should not be confused with the ultimate image. It's as though we celebrate a false idol when our admiration ends at skill and audacity. Perhaps Boloano is wagging his finger at us like an ancient prophet, admonishing us to seek out and celebrate the ultimate image. What is it that inaugurated the artist to expend their skill and will in the imitation of forms into a finished artwork? The true thing to be admired involves the mystery of inspiration. The ultimate idol is somewhere inside the inspiration or command. The rather religious investment that comes out of the ether into the human mind, and how the artist obeys the command to create -- isn't that true cause for celebration and reverence?
Hello Richard,
I’m so glad that you liked the video and thank you for these new, thought- provoking comments.
Your comparison of the biblical Jonah’s imprisonment in the dark belly of the whale and Barry Seaman’s incarceration, both the result of speaking truth to power, is enlightening. It seems that Bolano may be creating a (holy?) trinity with this novel, Moby Dick, and the biblical story of the whale. Thanks to you and Connor for illuminating this for us.
Perhaps we could even expand Bolaño’s theme to say that Santa Teresa, itself, is trapped inside the dark belly of the whale because no one in power is pursuing truth and justice for the femicide victims?
It may take some time for me to fully understand Brann’s fascinating philosophy on original images and their facsimiles. But I can see already how this works nicely with the idea of semblances.
The title 2666 has intrigued many people over the years and there are several theories as to what the title means. I’ve mentioned the quote from Bolaño’s previous novella, “Amulet,” in which the narrator refers to a Mexico City road as a cemetery in the year 2666. I’ve even heard the theory that the title derives from the number of miles from the northern border of Chile to its southern-most tip! I agree that it seems unlikely that the biblical “666” didn’t factor into the author’s thinking in some way.
Your comment about the university where Amalfitano works as a place of human reason took me back to a passage where the head of the Faculty of Literature tells Amalfitano that he doesn’t believe in philosophy due to the marvels of science (p. 200). Is Bolaño giving us a hint that reason and the pursuit of truths is jeopardized by this way of thinking?
And, yes, regarding art, I agree with you that Bolaño honors creative inspiration and endeavor above all. But he does show us instances where this has been twisted and corrupted, not only by the appreciators of the art or artist, but by the artist himself (i.e., Johns.)
Please keep the impressions and thoughts coming!